“It is not my storm.” She picks up the spoon, fills it with ice cream, and stuffs it in my mouth.
I sputter around the tasteless cold mess. “Stop!”
“Ice cream helps!” She swats away my hands and force-feeds me another bite. “It makes you sick, but it helps! Giles told me! I have to help!”
I push away, the chair tipping backward and dumping me onto the floor. A new woman appears above me. Dreadlocks frame a face covered with elaborate white face paint. I recognize her! The First Slayer! Buffy told me about her. I—
She raises a blade overhead and slams it into my stomach.
6
I WAKE UP WITH A gasp, my hands over my stomach. When I pull them away, I’m surprised they’re not slick with dark blood. It felt so real.
I lie back. Having a Slayer dream—one where I was at least a little in control—makes me realize I haven’t been having the same Slayer dreams I used to. Not since Leo gave me back my power. Though the bedroom, my old familiar nightmare, had been there too. And it was filled with …
The edges of the dream drift away like smoke, and I let them. All I remember is the cold burst of the ice cream and the colder pierce of the blade. Why did the First Slayer kill me? And why did the pretty Slayer lure me into that room for it to all happen?
Sleep permanently over for the night, I sit up and rub my eyes. I half turn to check if Artemis is awake before realizing, yet again, she’s not in the other bed.
When I was fourteen, I got a deeply ill-advised haircut, chopping my long locks into a chin-length horror. But for months after, whenever I got into a car or lay down in bed, I reached up to pull my long hair out of the way. Every time, it surprised me to find only empty air.
When will I stop reaching for Artemis where she isn’t?
I climb out of bed and throw on some clothes in the dark. I stop by the gym only to check on Pelly. It’s awake and hurries to my side, gentle eyes bright. I try not to look at the gym; it was the scene of so many of my moments with Leo. Instead, we head into the darkness. I run as fast and hard as I can, even though I’m only a few hours separated from my most recent run. Pelly keeps up. It’s fast—another detail that, coupled with the pairs of eyes placed on either side of its head more like a rabbit than a fox, makes it obvious Pelly’s breed of demon has always been prey. Never predator. Our Watcher texts didn’t bother mentioning that. I made sure Rhys noted it in his entry for Unpellis Demons.
We’re back at the castle before the sun rises. Pelly curls up under a tree while I do pull-ups, less to build strength and more to try and exhaust it. What used to feel like potential now feels like a constant tension. Less like I’m ready for any fight that might happen, and more like I’m aching for something—anything—to fight.
With nothing else to do, I head inside and shower, then walk to the library to kill a couple hours—the only thing I’m allowed to kill, I guess—before everyone gathers for our weekly meeting. We gave up the council room, preferring the cushy chairs we dragged into the library and set up in a circle. It feels more familiar to us than a stiff, formal room anyway.
The whole castle is dark and asleep. So I stop short when I see a strip of light beneath the polished wood door to the library. I have to fight against the instant alarm and wariness that seizes me. It’s probably Rhys, or my mother. Still, I open the door as silently as possible, on high alert. And then I freeze. It’s a familiar face, after all. But not one I expected to find.
Artemis?
Artemis!
“You’re back!” I rush into the room and throw my arms around Artemis in a hug. She came back. Seeing her here is like being able to take a deep breath for the first time in months. Things are going to be better now.
She’s holding a thick book, and it presses into me between us, trapped by my hug. “I knew it. I knew you’d finally get smart and leave Honora. I’m so happy you’re home! We have so much to talk about!”
But Artemis hasn’t said anything. And she’s still just holding that book. If she snuck in to come home, why wasn’t she waiting in our room? Why is she in the library? I cringe with guilt and try to form something like sympathy on my face as I release her. “Are you okay? Was it a bad breakup?”
I don’t hope it was. But I hope it was. Get it together, Nina. It’s my turn to be here for Artemis. She must not have been ready to face everyone yet after walking out on us for Honora and having that fall apart. I will not let my glee show. “We’ve all missed you.”
She still hasn’t said anything, and an alarm is ringing insistently somewhere inside me. Something is wrong. Did she get hurt? Is she in trouble? I babble, trying to fill the space between us. “We have meetings in here now. Didn’t want to use the old council room. Too stuffy. And we don’t really have lessons anymore. Not like we used to, anyway, though obviously Rhys still spends every waking hour studying. He’s working on some really great resources for us. And Imogen isn’t in charge of the Littles or teaching anymore; she’s mostly in the kitchen. Wait until you try her cookies. You won’t have to do those duties anymore, not unless you want to. We’ll work you into the schedule however you want, though everyone has to do a shift of bathroom cleaning, unfortunately. I tried to argue that it’s not part of my skills as a Slayer, but no one bought it. Anyway, you’ll get to pick what you want to do now, so that’s good, right?”
“I’m not back, Nina.”
The blow I was bracing for lands. I sit, staring at her. “Just visiting?” I keep my tone light and hopeful. But this doesn’t feel like a friendly visit. You don’t sneak into the castle in the dead of night if you want to pop by to check on how everyone’s doing. “Lots of new residents to introduce you to. How long are you staying?”
“You know I’m not.” She shakes her head, then sits across from me. But she’s not slumped in a chair. She’s perched on the edge of it, halfway up already. I can’t put my finger on what’s different until I realize she’s bracing herself against me. She used to orbit around me, always busy, anticipating needs before I had them. The way she’s sitting, it’s not like she’s half ready to get up and help me with something. It’s like she’s in a runner’s crouch, ready to take off. Away from me.
She finally looks me in the eyes. The rest of my dream hits me like cold water, plunging me back into the memory of laying her body down. We do look more alike now. But that fills me with panic. I don’t want that dream to be right about anything.
“You should turn them out,” Artemis says.
“Who?” I ask, trying to get the image of all the bodies out of my head.
“The demons.”